


Religious Ecstasy

by Tennyo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Orgasms, M/M, Sexual Themes, They Keep Their Clothes On, Time Jump, alcohol use, but no actual sex, but they do get off, i don't know y'all, it's like, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley spend time reminiscing about the past, and they talk about early misadventures with religious experiences, before... ahem... trying the effect out on each other."“I should have never told you what I was doing. You’d never known the difference before that.”“You were! They had! …” The angel’s face was turning colors.“They had an orgasm, angel. You can say it.”(Now available in Russian!)





	Religious Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so spellings are American English.  
> Let me know if you can come up with a better tag because I don't know what to call this.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to Tykki who translated this into Russian!   
> [Религиозный экстаз](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110666)

Crowley visited Aziraphale after the grand opening of his new bookshop in Soho. They were sharing a few bottles of wine in the back room, and talking about some of their past adventures. 

“Do you remember that time you asked me to help with that one at the nunnery?” asked Crowley, swirling the wine in his glass.

“That poor girl.” Aziraphale frowned. “It was the last time I ever allowed you to deliver spiritual ecstasy.”

“I should have never told you what I was doing. You’d never known the difference before that.”

“You were! They had! …” The angel’s face was turning colors.

“They had an orgasm, angel. You can say it.”

“It was indecent!”

Crowley put down his wineglass and leaned forward, eyebrow raised. “Tell me the difference.”

Aziraphale made mouth noises for a while until he could collect himself. “Well for one, the intent. Religious ecstasy is supposed to come from God. It is not… not _carnal_.”

“Ahh, but could they tell the difference?” With a sly smile, the demon winked. “I’ve watched you administer them, and it lights up all the same pleasure centers. If they think they’re having a religious experience, then it’s religious.” Shrugging, he leaned back, legs crossed. “Mine were just more satisfying.”

“I never.” tutted Aziraphele, picking up his wine and hiding behind a large gulp.

Conversation lulled for a while, as both the angel and demon increased their wine intake. Crowley made soothing sounds, and watched Aziraphale intently as he slowly relaxed back into his chair.

“You know, you said you never, maybe that’s your problem.”

Aziraphale sputtered. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on. Do your little ecstasy on me, I want to feel this difference you keep talking about.”

“Blasphemy!” Cried the angel. “It’s not meant for… for… exhibition!” 

“Angel.” Crowley slid across the floor, kneeling by his chair, looking up at him with those golden eyes through unfairly long eyelashes. “It’s not exhibition, it’s just the two of us. Please. Show me what I’ve been doing wrong.”

Crowley’s hair, following current trends, was chin-length and curling around his face like a fiery halo. Aziraphale beheld no guile on his face. He wanted to trust him, but a demon…

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Aziraphale pouted.

Holding the angel’s hand in both of his, Crowley gently, ever so lightly brushed his lips across the knuckles. “You won’t, angel. Please.”

Aziraphale was weak. “Very well. Can you at least pretend to be pious?”

Smiling softly, Crowley closed his eyes, folded his hands and began reciting, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…” 

Of course Crowley would choose a psalm that avoided saying God’s name. With his face relaxed, eyes closed, one could not tell Crowley was a demon. It was a shame, really. Gently placing his hands on either side of his face, Aziraphale pressed his fore and middle fingers to the demon’s temples, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. As Crowley droned on, Aziraphale closed his eyes and focused.

Crowley stuttered through, “Thy rod and thy sta-ahffff, they co-homfort mee…”

There, he was ready for the full force of how Aziraphale administered religious ecstasy. Opening his eyes, the angel watched Crowley’s jaw slacken, his body slightly swaying. Good. He gave a forceful push of Grace, maybe a little more than usual, since Crowley asked for it. 

“My cup runneth oh- _oh_ , OH!” Gasping, the demon’s head flopped back, eyelids fluttering over rolled back eyes, unable to finish the prayer.

Aziraphale kneeled out of his chair to hold up Crowley as he convulsed, fully in the throes of the effects. Indulging himself, the angel petted his head, fondling the soft curls framing his face. With one last shudder, Crowley settled against the angel with a sigh. Dreamlike, the demon opened his eyes to reveal fully blown pupils, almost round.

“Oh, _angel_.” Crowley breathed, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s coat like a cat. “Tell me, how was that _not_ an orgasm?”

Aziraphale’s perfectly content mood shattered. With an indignant gasp, he dropped the demon, grabbed a throw pillow, and began throttling him with it. “You… you FIEND!”

Warding off the blows, Crowley scuttled back out of attack range. “Hey, wait!”

“I can _not_ believe! Well, yes I can. But Still! Crowley! I trusted you!” Aziraphale sat on his heels and hugged the pillow to his chest. 

Far enough out of range, Crowley scrambled to his feet. “So I guess I’m not going to return the favor?”

“OUT!” screamed Aziraphale. He threw a wineglass at him. “Get out of my shop this instant! Vile! Corrupting! Demon!”

Once outside the shop, the door slammed forcefully behind him, Crowley took a deep breath. “That could have gone better.”

* * *

Two hundred years later, after the apocalypse that wasn’t, we find Aziraphale and Crowley in that same back room, much more cluttered, dusty, and well-lived-in. They’re sharing bottles of brandy this time, but still reminiscing. Gone is any old distrust, replaced with open mutual adoration. They share a sofa, Crowley sprawled out, Aziraphale with proper posture. 

At some point, the subject of dancing arose, and Aziraphale had been regaling Crowley with tales of learning to Gavotte. Crowley for once had the grace to not remind the angel of the nature of that… exclusive gentlemen's club. Who says you can’t teach an old demon new tricks?

“You know, I missed too much, sleeping through the 19th century.” 

“And whose fault was that?”

Crowley glances sideways at the angel’s lofty profile. “Yours, actually.”

“How could I possibly…”

The demon raises his eyebrows and stares flatly. “You threw things at me until I left your shop.”

“Well.” Aziraphale pointedly does not look at him. “You were the one who tricked me into… into—”

“Getting me off?” He relishes the high color blooming on Aziraphale’s face.  With a half smile, he nudges the angel’s shoulder. “I never did return the favor.”

The angel sputters. “Incorrigible.” 

Leaning heavily against him, Crowley says, “You love me.”

Everything is suspended in that moment; neither breathe, they just stare at each other, eyes wide, expressions soft. Finally, after what feels like ages, Aziraphale demurely lowers his head and looks off to the side. 

“I really do,” he murmurs.

Crowley stares at him in awe, jaw dropped, eyes unblinking, pupils dilating. It reminds Aziraphale of… _ahem_. Straightening his spine and raising his head, Aziraphale makes a decision. 

“You know what? Go ahead.”

“Huh?” comes Crowley’s intelligent reply.

“You, know… return the favor.” Aziraphale stares somewhere over Crowley’s left shoulder, hands primly clutched in his lap.

 Crowley blinks, then places one hand on Aziraphale’s. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Oh, just get on with it!” Aziraphale snaps. 

“Err…” Crowley starts to pull away.

“No, I mean. I, I want to… to experience… that.” Aziraphale clutches the retreating hand in both of his. “Please?”

“Oh, angel.” Holding Aziraphale’s hands, Crowley places a kiss to the knuckles of each hand. “As you wish.”

Air whooshes out of Aziraphale’s lungs, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. His face is hot, and he closes his eyes to avoid embarrassing himself any more. Eventually, Crowley places his hands to either side of the angel’s face, fore and middle fingers on his temples, palms squishing his cheeks.

“Just relax, angel. No prayers needed.”

At first, it feels like nothing is happening, just warm hands, steady breathing. But then he feels himself grow increasingly warm, and more aware of the clothing against his skin, Crowley’s fingers tingling at his temples. Curious, he peeks with one eye half open, to find the demon gazing at him intently. Something flip-flops in his chest, so he squeezes his eyes shut again, and hears a chuckle. 

There’s a strange pressure, like the coming of a storm, building up inside him. It’s inexplicable. He shivers. 

“That’s it, angel, just go with it,” Crowley croons.

Oh, his voice is so lovely. There’s a pleasant tingling sensation now, all over. It makes his breath catch, and he clings to Crowley’s sleeves. The pressure continues to build, and it’s so slow. It’s a wondrous torture; a whimper escapes his lips. 

Warm breath caresses his face as Crowley whispers, “Let me see your eyes, angel.”

Heavy lidded, Aziraphale peels his eyes open to see Crowley, gazing at him… dare he say, lovingly? And he melts even more. Another surge of pleasurable tingling surges through him, and he’s panting now.

“Almost there, you’re so beautiful,” Crowley encourages, and Aziraphale clings tighter, shaking with this indescribable… want. The pressure builds and builds, and he can’t take it any more.

“Please, I, I _need_ …” And finally, that electric, pleasurable buzzing inside of him, centralizes somewhere deep inside of himself, and the pressure snaps, like a wire wound too tight. He becomes insensate from the overwhelming pleasure. His ears ring, stars explode in his unseeing eyes. He could have discorporated for all he knows what his body is doing. 

Some time later, he comes to, gently cradled in Crowley’s arms and lap. He is awash with a feeling of satisfaction. Lips gently press to his forehead, and his eyes flutter open. 

“Was it good for you, angel?” Crowley teases. 

He doesn’t even care about the teasing, and basks in the… well, he supposes one could call it a glow. “Hmmmnnng.” he responds.

They sit like that a few moments longer, as Aziraphale comes to his senses. Is this what they call a cuddle? His pleasure-addled mind wonders. Crowley is gazing down at him with a fond expression. 

“Maybe next time, we can do this together, in a bed.” Crowley smirks.

It takes a moment for the comment to register, and then Aziraphale grabs a pillow, thwacking the demon about the head and ears.

Crowley bursts into laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because I've seen several other older fics (pre-TV-series) mention Crowley helping Aziraphale with his duties, and inducing orgasm as a religious experience.  
> The plot bunnies took over from there.


End file.
